


Doubts

by littlewonder



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Confessions, Dialogue, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-07-28 14:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20065237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewonder/pseuds/littlewonder
Summary: Virgil feels nobody, and especially not Roman, could ever love him. Roman reassures him.





	1. Chapter 1

_He can’t love me. He could never love me. In fact, he probably really hates me. It figures._

Virgil was used to being hated. But somehow, it felt worse with Roman. Maybe it was because they had a history together, when Thomas was a teenager. Maybe it was because he was Remus’s better half, and that made Virgil feel unworthy. After all, he too was once a dark side. Even now, he had that aspect to him. So how could he ever really be _good_?

After ducking out from Thomas’s consciousness and then having his room invaded by Thomas and his other main sides, he finally started to wonder if he ever could be. But even if it was possible, that didn’t mean he could be _happy_. If he were to ever love, it could only ever be tragic love.

He was too good at avoiding things, maybe he could avoid love, too. When he thought of the real reason he’d ducked out, it had a lot to do with love. The love he’d started to receive from Thomas and the other sides, but more than that, the feeling of how unworthy of that love he felt. Roman was a big part of realising that unworthiness.

So when they all broke into his room without his permission, it was all rather confronting. It set him on edge, right up until Roman’s confession of admiration for him. Spurred on by that, he managed rescue all of them from the corrupting influence his room had on them.

“You rescued me,” said Roman, as they all reappeared in Thomas’s living room.

_That must be different for you_, thought Virgil, _who’s always rescuing damsels in his daydreams._

“Yeah, well, fight or flight, am I right?” Virgil said instead.

As the other sides kept prattling on, Virgil kept glancing at Roman, his heart swelling as he did so. Still inspired by his confession, Virgil wanted to give something back to him: his name. But at the nervous tension welling up in him, he cursed himself for the desire. Why did he have to have a heart? Why did the rest of them all have to be here, too?

Maybe it was a good thing. Roman would only mock him; the others would probably soften the blow and protect him. Why, then, was he still so nervous?

He hated himself sometimes. He hated his name. But he was trying so hard not to.

That's why this was right. He looked around, hoping looking one of them in the eye would help. It did not, and in fact only made it worse.

He had to pretend he was alone. But he was only all too aware that he wasn’t. This was not going to go well.

Closing his eyes, he was thankful this was all just in Thomas’s head. That actually did help; it allowed him to imagine the others were just figments of his own imagination, since they clearly figments of Thomas's.

“_My name is Virgil_."

For a moment, he blabbered to himself in an attempt to block them out a moment longer. Then he looked, and they became real to him again, as they chattered away in response.

Thomas defended him to Roman, at least, which made this more public display all worthwhile. And then Roman… accepted him, and even called him by his name without laughing.

It was weird to hear. “You can call me Virge,” he replied, both out of awkwardness and a smidge of affection he would never openly admit to.

_Or…_ thought Virgil, _would I? If I got this far…_

But the truth was, he still had doubts. He was anxiety, after all. How could he not have doubts? How could he ever believe that, even if this level of trust and connection was possible, it would ever go deeper than that? How could he believe he would ever be enough for Roman, when he was just… Virgil, and he was bound to mess it all up? How could he even be sure that confession even carried any lasting meaning?

Roman rose up into his bedroom, holding his arms up in that ridiculous pose again. He had been doing this with alarming frequency as of late. And right now, he simply wasn’t in the mood for Roman’s upbeat narcissism. He felt bad enough as it was.

“W-what’s the matter?” Roman asked immediately, grin wiping off his face.

Somehow, that was worse.

“What’s it matter?”

“What’s it _matter_? I care about you! Come on, tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I’m anxiety. I’m always like this.” 

“Are you? Come on, Virgil, you can’t fool me. We’re two parts of the same person, remember?” 

Virgil lifted his eyes to Roman, hesitating. “You’ve started acting like you care about me lately,” said Virgil. “I just wanna know why. I know I’m unlovable ―” 

“Wait, wait, now just hold on one second. You’re not unlovable. Why would you even say that?” 

“Because it’s true,” said Virgil. “You said it yourself. All I ever do is cause trouble. There’s nothing good about me. I always dampen your spirits, and I ruin everything.”

“Not everything,” said Roman. “I feel my spirits lifting when you smile at me.” 

“Yeah, besides that."

“Not ‘besides that,’” said Roman. “Don’t sell yourself short. You may make me work hard, but that just makes the rewards all the sweeter. I cherish every piece of affection you give me, because I know you don’t give it up easily, yet you chose to give that to me. I know I may seem like an egotist sometimes, but there are also times you make me see past myself, and understand the only thing better than me and the work I do is connection. I cherish that, Virgil, and I cherish it with you most of all."

“But is it _worth_ it? How can it _possibly_ be worth it?"

“You _are_ worth it, Virgil,” said Roman. “Like me, you can be dramatic and passionate, but in your own way. I want to strive to protect you, just as you protect me; I want to be worthy of you. Maybe there was a time when I didn’t like you very much, but now I know that we make a good team; we balance each other out. I don’t quite know why, but without you… well, I miss you.”

“You miss me?” said Virgil. “How can that possibly be? I dim your spark.” 

“Maybe sometimes you inspire me, too,” said Roman. “Maybe art can’t always be… sparkly. Virgil, the fact is… you are my muse. And without you, there is no drama. There is no tension. I am just flat, and tired, and uninspired…"

“Even though I sometimes hinder your expression?” 

“A prince must overcome adversity if he is to triumph! I no longer find that to be a bad thing."

A smile tugged at Virgil's mouth. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Now get out of my room.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and… get to know each other a little better?” said Roman, laying on the charm.

"Out."

“You’re so hard to get close to.” 

“You love it,” smirked Virgil.

“Yes, I do. This won’t be the last you see of me!” Roman declared, sinking into the floor.

“Bye, Roman."

“Fare thee well!” Roman managed to say before disappearing.

Virgil couldn’t keep the grin off his face. _He loves me._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A songfic about the anxiety Thomas might feel even when accepting an award.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this fic is There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered, Honey by Panic! At The Disco. I heard it recently, and was inspired.

Thomas hated parties. So, incidentally, did Virgil. Roman loved them, but even he had his limits: his insecurities, which Virgil only exacerbated.

“It would be better if you just leave,” said Virgil. “You know no one here. And you can see them all judging you, can’t you? They’re telling you with their eyes, ‘You don’t belong here.’”

“Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you leave,” said Roman. “You deserve to be here just as much as they do. You have made a career online in writing and performing content, and they love you for it.” 

“They may love you,” said Virgil, “but the people at this party know nothing about that. As far as they’re concerned, you’re a nobody.”

“So you admit Thomas’s fans love him. That’s more than you’re willing to concede normally.” 

“They may love him more than the people here do, that’s all I meant!” 

“Suuure, you did,” said Roman.

“You may think you’re all that, but I know you better than that,” said Virgil. “You have insecurities, doubts. You want the world to think you’re some confident diva, but the truth is, you’re so afraid of being torn down that you built up this Prince persona so you can pretend that it never gets you down. But it does.” 

Thomas felt his heart sinking at the accusation. Roman looked affronted.

“I _am_ a diva."

“And I’m the new cancer.”

“No, no, not that song again,” mumbled Thomas.

“You bet,” said Virgil. “Because look around you. It fits.”

“Well, if by ‘the new cancer,’ you mean you’re bumming me out, then yes, congratulations, you are,” retorted Roman.

“You’re just jealous,” said Virgil. “You don’t have power here. This isn’t fantasy; this is cold, hard reality. You can’t help him.” 

“Oh, and you can? You are only making things more difficult for him.”

“I don’t trust a person here. We don’t know these people. I am only trying to protect him from these assholes. I mean, what is he even doing here?”

“You know Thomas came to this party to accept an award.” 

“That is, if he even gets it. These people are only here to judge us. Look at them. Look at the way they’re looking at us.” 

“Like a star?” 

“No, like… we’re not good enough.” 

“We would never have been invited to this party if that were true. For once, can you just… allow Thomas to achieve his dreams?"

“Oh, I’m sure this is a big dream of his ―” 

“It is, actually―” 

“To be judged by a bunch of judgemental strangers ―” 

“To be recognised at last for his artistic contributions!”

“Oh, so his fans aren’t enough. He has to be recognised by these stuffy, intellectual-types.” 

“Actually, that… that is a good point," replied Thomas.

“No, it isn’t,” argued Roman. “He’s just trying to get you to leave, to run away, before your talent can be recognised.”

“And when you’re not recognised, what will you do? Go cry in the toilet?"

“I am not like the person in that song!"

“Oh no?” said Virgil. “You are always melodramatic, you have major insecurities about your art that you try to cover up by acting like a diva, and you actually care deeply about being loved and adored. Even you must admit there are similarities."

Roman didn’t really have a rebuttal to that, so for the rest of the night, while Thomas whiled his time at his table, Virgil twiddled his thumbs while singing the song on repeat in Thomas’s head.

Thomas was already unsettled as Virgil began to sing the song, but the feeling of dread was soon accentuated by the lyrics.

_I’m wrecking this evening already and  
Loving every minute of it  
Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and…_

"Oh, ha ha, very funny,” complained Roman. “You think you’re getting to me by calling me _mildly_ inspiring?"

Virgil gave him a sharp look that only suggested there was much worse to come, and Thomas didn’t like what that implied. Wringing his hands in his lap as he awaited the takedown, though, he knew he was powerless to stop it.

_I’m the new cancer  
Never looked better  
You can’t stand it  
Because you say so under your breath  
You’re reading lips,  
“When did he get all confident?"  
Haven’t you heard that  
I’m the new cancer?  
Never looked better and  
You can’t stand it_

Virgil and Roman were staring daggers into each other, but Virgil had a smirk on his face that outshone Roman.

Vainly, Roman argued against what Virgil was singing, but he was soon drowned out by the second chorus.

_I bet you just can’t keep up with  
With these fashionistas, and  
Tonight, tonight, you are, you are  
A whispering campaign  
I bet to them your name is "Cheap"  
I bet to them you look like sh―  
Talk to the mirror, oh, choke back tears  
And keep telling yourself that,  
“I’m a diva"_

“I _am_ a diva!” Roman insisted.

Virgil lifted a brow at him, as though to suggest he just proved his point. Then he repeated the chorus louder, his tempest tongue really giving new meaning to the term 'chorus'.

_I’m the new cancer  
Never looked better  
You can’t stand it  
Because you say so under your breath  
You’re reading lips,  
“When did he get all confident?"  
Haven’t you heard that  
I’m the new cancer?  
Never looked better and  
You can’t stand it_

Thomas whiled away the hours between dinner, entertainment, and the announcements of the winners with this song circling round and round in his head.  
As the announcement of his category drew nearer, the music only grew louder, Roman more miserable, and the verses joined back in. All this crescendoed until the music fell.

The announcement of Thomas’s category started, and Virgil started up again, this repetition more solemn.

_Haven’t you heard that  
I’m the new cancer?  
Never looked better and  
You can’t stand it_

The announcer introduced the nominations, Thomas among them. His heart raced, and Virgil’s song grew more upbeat again as he panicked.

_And I know, and I know, it just doesn’t feel like  
A night out with no one sizing you up  
I’ve never been so surreptitious,  
So of course you’ll distracted when I spike the punch_

Roman was glaring daggers into Virgil, begging him to stop. “Don’t ruin this for me, please."

_And I know, and I know, it just doesn’t feel like  
A night out with no one sizing you up_

“And the winner is…”

_I’ve never been so surreptitious,  
So of course you’ll distracted when I spike―_

“Thomas Sanders!"

_―the punch!_

“Ha! Told you!” Roman bragged to Virgil.

“Alright, alright, so it was a false alarm,” said Virgil, as Thomas stood up and made his way to the stage to accept the prize. “So sue me.” 

“Ah, if only I could…"

Virgil kept chattering away as Thomas accepted the prize and made his little speech. Roman kept telling him to shut up, and when that didn’t work, simply told Thomas to ignore him.

Thomas wrapped up his speech and sat back down with his prize.

“Are you happy now?” Roman demanded to Virgil.

“I won’t be happy till we leave. I still say this place is full of judgemental dolts.” 

“How can you possibly still be thinking that?” demanded Roman. “They gave us a prize!"

“That doesn’t mean anything."

“Yes, it does!” 

Thomas sighed. He would be happier when it was time to leave and Virgil finally shut up.

But then he was invited to an after party, and Thomas faked a smile and agreed. After all, it would look strange for a winner not to go out and celebrate after.  
Virgil complained the whole night, but it was Roman who drove Thomas all night, letting him smile, and brag, and celebrate.

The smile disappeared the moment he got home and all his friends left.

“Finally,” said Virgil, taking over.

“Oh, not again.” 

“Yeah, are you going to shut up now?” added Thomas.

“Oh, I’m only getting started.” 

“Oh, don’t tell me,” said Roman, “now you’re going to get all hung up on everything we did wrong tonight?”   
“Well, now that you mention it…"

“Oh, brother…” said Roman.

So, as Virgil started to lecture them, Thomas put down his trophy on the table, got himself a midnight snack, and started to eat. Eventually, he fell asleep to Virgil’s nattering on the couch, and woke up to a sore back.

"Ugh… Thanks, Virgil."

“No problem,” he said.


End file.
